


Souvenirs

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-09-30
Updated: 1999-09-30
Packaged: 2018-11-20 08:56:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11332539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived atThe Basement, which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onThe Basement's collection profile.





	Souvenirs

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Souvenirs by Kix

28 October 1998  
TITLE: Souvenirs  
AUTHOR: Kix  
CATEGORY/RATING: M/K slash, NC17 for just about everything in it.  
DISCLAIMER: No one belongs to anyone; we are all free spirits.  
DISTRIBUTION: Anywhere and everywhere it's welcome. As long as you let me know first. Cuz I likes to know where my babies are living.  
THANX: Many thanx and much love to Alicia. Who gallantly saved me from personal pronoun hell, and who somehow managed to translate my drug-induced blatherings. Oh, and she was awful goshdarn sweet about it, too <g>.  
NOTES: It began life as a tiny snippet. It evolved. I had nothing to do with it.  
FEEDBACK: To or . I'd beg, but that would be degrading.  
For my darling Te. Because she asked. Yes, I'm that easy. (And is this even *close* to what you originally wanted, chica?)

* * *

==============  
Souvenirs  
by Kix  
==============

xXx  
All these feelings, they cloud up my reason  
  -- Matchbox 20, "Argue"  
xXx

From his position in the alley, Fox Mulder could see the car pull to a halt outside the run-down apartment complex. Crouching lower into the shadow created by the looming dumpster, he strove to identify the driver. The car and surrounding sidewalk were bathed in a green haze from the neon sign that flickered on the wall of a nearby building offering "ADULT VIDEOS, MAGAZINES, LIVE PEEP SHOWS."

//Appropriate. //

In the driver's side mirror, Mulder watched a green-tinted reflection of a garishly dressed black woman pushing inelegantly at the shoulders of a shorter, younger girl. Amid screeches of "Move yo' skinny, Latino ass off my patch 'fore I fuckin' move it fo' you, bitch!" Mulder heard the clunk of a car door opening.

His heart beating loudly in his chest, he felt a single bead of sweat roll steadily from his hairline to the base of his jaw.

One booted foot emerged from behind the door, followed by a slim, jeans-clad leg. The second leg joined its twin as the figure stood, face hidden as the torso bent for exit. The man, dressed all in dark clothing, stood still for a moment.

//What are you waiting for? Turn around, dammit.//

The man's head was covered in a baseball cap that, when he did eventually turn, concealed his face from view. A hand closed around the top of the car door, pushing to slam it shut. The other arm hung stiff at the man's side, hand gleaming green in the light where it came past the cuff of his jacket.

There was no mistaking it.

//Hell .//

Alex Krycek closed and locked the door, then nonchalantly hopped onto the sidewalk and into the apartment building.

Mulder clutched the crumpled square of paper tight in his hand, refusing to think of how it could have found itself in the drier atop his laundry. A message in unfamiliar handwriting: "The rat is back."

//Oh, he certainly is.//

He wanted to believe that this was his private discovery, that he was the only one who knew where Krycek was. He wanted to feel that this belonged to him. Just for a few moments.

Of course, the note itself meant he wasn't alone in this knowledge, but the fantasy still had its appeal.

Not entirely aware that he was almost smiling, he scuttled further along the alley, finding a better vantage point for the window that an afternoon's research had taught him he should be watching.

Moments later the window lit up, and Mulder felt his pulse racing, his body surging with adrenaline, knowing that for once, he had found Alex Krycek. He had tracked him down. He was the pursuer, Alex the pursued.

The role-reversal gave him a strange sense of achievement.

Bringing binoculars to his eyes, he watched as Krycek whipped the cap from his head

//His hair's grown....//

and tossed it across the room. The ubiquitous leather jacket was removed and hung on the back of a chair, revealing a tight-fitting black T-shirt tucked into black jeans.

//Oh, that's nice....

//Stop it!//

Mulder barely suppressed a groan when lamplight glinted on familiar gold

//He's wearing my belt....//

and memories sliced clear as a razorblade through his mind.

Firm, heated flesh writhing under his hands; long legs surrounding his waist as tight muscles milked his cock; their harsh breathing and suppressed moans filling the room as Alex moved atop him, rode him; long, graceful back arching as Alex threw his head back, black leather contrasting with the pale skin of his throat. And Mulder remembered experimentally tugging on the belt strap, watching eyes widen, glinting with something beyond pleasure, surpassing desire--something maniacal.

Alex had taken the belt afterwards; Mulder had discovered it missing when he awoke alone in his seldom-used bedroom. He'd been forced to spend the day with his pants sagging at his hips because the only other belt he owned was white, studded with rhinestones, and part of an Elvis costume he'd worn to a party in '89. Not entirely suitable for work.

But Alex was wearing that belt. As if it were a souvenir. As if it were something that made him feel close to Mulder, something of him he could carry with him always.

//Can you say 'wishful thinking?'//

Mulder shuddered, closing his eyes, the muted, anticipatory throbbing in his groin he'd been feeling all evening escalating to astronomical intensity.

//Non-sexy thoughts. Howard Stern, the Bee Gees, the bottom of your refrigerator, Scully's eyebrows....//

He couldn't let this get the better of him. He was here to watch. He was here as a spectator. Look, but don't touch. Want, but don't take. Think, but don't act.

Mulder opened his eyes, and felt his heart, among other things, fall when he saw that Alex was no longer standing by the window. Had he left? Or just moved out of his view? Where the fuck was he?

//See what happens when you don't keep your mind on the job, Agent Mulder?//

"Shit," he seethed, taking one step forward and praying to whomever might be listening for Krycek to come into his line of sight again, when he heard his phone ring.

//Scully, you have impeccable timing.//

Removing it from his inside pocket, he answered the call. "Mulder."

"Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to stare?"

//Oh Christ.//

Mulder's attempt at a retort was intercepted by Krycek's instruction to "Get up here," before the line went dead.

How long had he known?

*How* had he known?

//"Get up here"?//

Mulder rested back against the wall for a few seconds, panic rushing like air bubbles in his blood. He didn't dare risk a glance back up at the window; afraid that Alex would be there, watching him.

But how could he ignore the invitation?

//Damn near closest I'll ever get to Alex letting me in.//

Mulder leapt to his feet and stepped out of obscurity and into the street. Pocketing his binoculars, he unfastened his holster.

//Sure, like you're gonna use that thing....

//Oh, shut up.//

Passing the two arguing hookers, he didn't so much choose to ignore their calls of "Hey, sugah, lookin' for a date?" as fail to even notice them. Most of his mental resources were tied up in debating whether or not it would be wiser to sprint down the street, jump in his rental, and put as many miles between him and Alex Krycek as God and gas would allow.

Logic told him that was the best idea.

But logic very rarely got the audience it deserved.

//I'm not running. I'll... confront him, and then I'll leave. That's all.

//Honest.//

He didn't even register that he'd already crossed the street and was headed straight for the entrance to the apartment building. It felt like the darkness of the open doorway swallowed him. As if he were stepping through a vortex, a passage into another existence. One where he lost all the common sense he'd ever owned--which didn't amount to much--and made a stupid, stupid mistake.

//What am I *doing*?!//

It was always the same. He'd tell himself that the last time was the *last* time. He'd remind himself that not only was it dangerous, but he hated himself for it when it was over. And he hated Alex, too. Didn't he? Anyway, it was never worth the pain.

But he would be driven by thoughts of those full, soft lips. Of the whisper of breath on his skin. Of the faint, light hint of musk that Alex cast like a fishing line; he was hooked, and Alex Krycek reeled him in every single time.

Every single time.

//But not this time. Things are different this time; *I'm* in control.//

xXx You know you cannot hide From what's inside -- Reef, "Place Your Hands" xXx

Rounding a corner, he found he'd scaled the staircase without thinking. He'd barely a moment to ponder that concept before a hand came out of nowhere, grabbing him by the shoulder and forcing him headfirst into the wall of the grossly unpleasant corridor.

"First of all, what the fuck are you doing here?" Krycek demanded as he spun the still reeling Mulder to face him. His voice was thick and raspy in the echoing hallway, like the rustle of autumn leaves in October winds.

Mulder ignored the ringing in his ears and answered with a sarcastic, "Well I was just passing.... Nice neighborhood by the way--"

"How the hell did you know I was here? Who told you, Mulder? Who the hell was it?" Alex's brow was knit tight with what could have been worry, if Mulder didn't know him better.

//I don't know him at all.//

Mulder shrugged, breathing harsh, deep. Through the musty odor of damp and neglect that seemed to hang in the air like a mist, he could smell the familiar mix of leather and danger that he had come to recognize as Alex's trademark scent.

He wanted to bury his nose in the younger man's chest; breathe him in as if he were oxygen--an essential, necessary substance.

//*Stop* *it*.//

Alex looked incredulous. "You don't know?"

Mulder shook his head, as much a confirmation of his ignorance as a means of rousing himself from the Alex-induced trance.

//You swore this wouldn't happen, Mulder. You *swore* you wouldn't do this to yourself again....//

"No. I was given this." He handed Alex the slip of paper with the address, fingertips lingering on the callused skin of the other man's palm for longer than they ought.

"And you don't know who gave it to you?" Alex asked after reading it.

Mulder threw his hands in the air. "I already said I didn't know! What, you think I'm lying to you now? Oh, that's rich."

Alex's shadow-washed features flashed a shade of something just beyond the realms of identification, then returned to their expression of mild annoyance and general uneasiness.

//My God, he *is* afraid, isn't he? He's afraid of something....//

"No, no, I believe you," Alex said, pocketing the paper, "I believe you." His voice trailed off into a whisper as he drew closer to Mulder once again

//No. No. No. *NO*.//

and kissed him with surprising gentleness.

"What were you doing down there?" Alex asked, pressing Mulder into the wall, resting his forehead against the older man's.

Mulder could almost hear the blood rush to his groin.

"I... I just wanted to see you. See if it was you," Mulder breathed, his head spinning. So long wanting, wishing... and he was here. Alex. Flesh and bone and heat, firm against him. Real.

Mulder began to wonder how he ever survived a second without what seemed like this essential, requisite part of him close at hand (or something else.)

//I can't. I won't.//

He'd promised himself he wouldn't do this; he wouldn't let himself take the risk.

But, as with all his obsessions, it destroyed his willpower.

//Please kiss me again, or I'll die, I swear it.//

"So why were you hiding down there? Like you were... observing me?" Alex dropped his lips to his lover's cheekbone.

"I *was* observing you," Mulder admitted.

"Really? Well, that's nice." Alex smiled against his skin. "Only problem is, I don't like being observed, Mulder." And nipped hard at the tender flesh.

Mulder yelped.

//Oh, Jesus, I *yelped*.//

Alex laughed, grabbing Mulder about the head and bringing his mouth down on the other man's.

A kiss like a tornado, ripping through him mercilessly, vicious, consuming.

//Oh, I missed you.//

"You may as well get in here," Alex said, and dragged him quickly through the open door before Mulder could protest.

The interior of the apartment was equally as unattractive as the exterior; bare, wood-paneled flooring that had been in desperate need of a coat of varnish years ago; sparse, dilapidated furniture; walls that might have been painted white once in a previous lifetime but were now the dirty brown-gray of life in the city. Stale tobacco smoke and a hint of cheap whiskey mingled with the building's musty stench.

//Been having 'visitors', Alex?//

Something in the way the worn backpack was dumped on the floor by the battered door gave the impression that this was just one in a string of similar living arrangements. Nothing more than shelter from the elements; somewhere he could run from tomorrow and never dream of looking back to. It was... a temporary safe haven.

One that was probably going to be far less safe and a little more temporary than others.

"What do you want, Mulder?" Alex asked, agitated.

"I don't want anything," Mulder replied.

"Then why are you here?"

Mulder sighed. "I don't know. I was curious."

"Curious?" Alex cocked his head, "Well, I'm curious to know why you would be... curious," Mulder was blessed with one of Alex's slow, lingering smiles.

//It's not gonna work, Alex. You can look like that all you want; I refuse to take any notice.//

"Because you disappeared off the face of the planet, Krycek," Mulder answered, angrier than he'd intended. But then Alex always had provoked unintentional responses in him. "Not even a fucking goodbye. You pissed off out of my life yet again and you just disappeared. It's been four months. Did you think I was gonna sit back and ignore any chance I might have had of seeing you again?"

//So *that's* why I came here. Go figure.//

Krycek dropped his gaze from Mulder's. Mulder almost found this act more intimate than eye contact, knowing that Alex was showing him how he felt by trying to hide it.

//I don't know who's more fucked up--him or me.//

"You used me," Mulder continued.

And Krycek guffawed. "I *what*?!"

"You used me. You *use* me. Nothing but a succession of brief encounters, quick screws, and then you kiss my cheek and tell me to toddle off like a good boy and I don't hear from you until you get desperate for someone to fuck or fuck over." Mulder felt his cheeks burning with rage he hadn't even known was inside him. Where was this coming from? He didn't have a clue; but he didn't much care.

It felt good to see the shock on Alex's face.

//Who said you had a monopoly on surprise, Alex? And who said I had a monopoly on guilt?//

"I mean, what the hell are we? We're nothing unless you decide to show up again, and even then, I never quite know what's going to happen. Whether you're going to set me up, or whether you just want to see me. Whether or not you'll stay longer than it takes for you to come...."

At this, Alex moved to retaliate, but Mulder kept speaking.

"Do you.... Do you even care?" Mulder gritted, taking a step forward and hearing something that he hoped was as innocuous as a potato chip crush under his foot. "Do you even give a shit about me? What am I to you, Alex? What do I mean to you?"

//Do I mean anything to you?//

Krycek stood stock still for a few agonizing moments before launching himself at Mulder, grabbing his tie and yanking hard, making Mulder drop to his knees in response. "How can you even ask me that?" he growled, releasing the tie from his grasp with another yank that threw Mulder to the floor.

Mulder didn't allow himself the time to recover; he twisted and pushed off, his legs, hips, hips, back raising off the floor and his feet connecting cruelly with the back of Krycek's knees.

//Now, I'm no sadist, but *God* it feels good to hurt him....//

The younger man fell, and Mulder rolled to avoid being the cushion for that fall. But almost as soon as Alex's body hit the ground, he seemed to bounce, gravitating towards Mulder, despite the fact that his forehead received the brunt of the blow.

He didn't recognize the silver glint in the other man's hand for what it was until the ice-fire coldness of the blade licked his throat.

//Oh fuck.//

xXx  
I'm holding on to letting go  
  -- Billie Myers, "Tell Me"  
xXx

Mulder froze.

"Every single time I meet you, I put my life on the line," Alex whispered, eyes like balls of black fire as he put a little pressure on the knife. Mulder felt the burn of metal breaking skin. "I put the future of the resistance on the line. And that, Mulder, means more to me than you could possibly imagine. I risk it for you. I gladly risk it for you. Does that tell you anything about what you mean to me?"

Mulder swore something in his brain exploded. And he felt right at that moment that he was either about to die, or come. Either way, he was about to give in to Alex--as always. It was the only certainty in their relationship. Mulder didn't realize how much he needed it.

"Does it, Mulder?" He pushed less gently with the blade.

//Please, Alex, slit my throat. Please. I'd rather you killed me than made me need you like this.//

"Mulder?"

"I..." he raised a hand and tracked the dribble of blood that was slowly making its way from Alex's temple past his eyebrow.

//I'm sorry.//

Alex closed his eyes, nostrils flaring as he fought to keep control. Mulder felt the tension in the other man's shaking muscles.

"I..." Mulder tried again, moving to cup Alex's jaw in his palm as he stroked plump, soft lips, smearing the pink flesh with crimson.

//I love you.//

"I..." And this time Alex stole Mulder's silence into his mouth, as if swallowing the implicit meaning.

//I want you.//

Mulder let out a sharp gasp as he felt the bite of the knife drag across his skin when Alex moved it away. That gasp was almost immediately followed by another when he felt lips swipe at the beads of blood forming in the shallow cuts. The same lips soon resumed their position on his own, and he could taste the copper tang when the tip of his tongue ventured to trace the outline of the sweet curves.

//Kiss me, kill me.... What's the difference?//

The slow, thorough exploration gave way to urgency, and the kiss became hungry, intense, almost bruising. Hands roamed and limbs entwined; hips jostling, grinding against each other in a familiar rhythm.

//I shouldn't be doing this.//

"Mulder," Alex panted, pushing the suit jacket off his lover's shoulders before moving to work on the shirt buttons as best he could with one hand.

"What?" he asked, allowing Alex to clasp his upper leg between his thighs, feeling heat swell in his belly when the other man let out a hum of pleasure as he rubbed himself against the hard muscle.

//Ohhhh God, yes I should.//

"You smell like garbage."

Mulder grinned, and let Alex pull him to his feet and lead him into the small, dingy bathroom.

Shedding garments along the way, struggling with the knot of his tie, Mulder wished he'd had the sense to change into something a little less challenging to get out of.

//Wait a minute....//

"Alex, where's your knife?" he asked, inviting an inquisitive stare from the other man, who took the weapon from its hiding place inside his sleeve.

Mulder smiled, stretched out his hand and closed his fist around the handle of the switchblade then cut clean through the silk with one sharp stroke. Sixty dollars of Hugo Boss fell to the ground unmourned.

Alex watched, seemingly fascinated as Mulder bypassed the remaining buttons on his shirt and pulled the crumpled, bloodstained

//I really should get him to start paying for my dry-cleaning.//

garment over his head. His remaining clothing soon followed, and Mulder then went on to assist Alex in the same task, with purely selfless motivation, of course.

The shower's water pressure was terrible, and the temperature kept fluctuating from warm to freezing.

//Great. Now every time I take a cold shower I'll think of this. Kinda defeats the purpose, no?//

But neither of the men minded--they were creating enough heat all by themselves. Water-slick skin felt smooth and hot as molten glass under roving hands that moved with both the confident familiarity of long-time lovers and the enthusiasm of those who have much to explore.

Mulder dragged one soapy hand from the base of Alex's neck, over shoulder and sculpted chest even as he thrust into his lover's fist.

Drinking in a kiss as thick and sensual as melted chocolate, Mulder felt doubt forced out into the outskirts of his mind by the torridity of arousal.

He pulled back slightly to allow the water to rinse away the suds on Alex's perfect buttermilk complexion, watching the white froth dance and disappear. Then he followed the water's path with his mouth, lowering himself carefully to his knees on the slippery floor of the bathtub, tasting bitter traces of soap that couldn't quite mask the true flavor he was sampling. He found a small raised scar just under Alex's ribs, and paused to rub his tongue over it, groaning at the sensation.

Mulder felt a hand claw into his hair, pushing restlessly down.

"Mulder, come on," Krycek gasped.

//Patience is a virtue, Alex.//

But he took immediate notice, and ran the flat of his tongue briskly along the underside of Alex's fully erect cock, feeling it bob underneath him. Alex moaned, and leaned back against the tiled wall. Mulder's tongue stopped where the head met the shaft, tracing the ridge with a series of tiny, meticulous flicks; each one elicited a small gasp, so that the end was like a single, shuddering sigh.

//Oh, I could come just listening to him.//

Mulder felt water pelt down on his back; reached out with both hands and grasped Alex's hips as he carefully placed an open-mouthed kiss at the weeping tip of his cock. The other man made a soft purring sound at the back of his throat, so low it was almost lost in the noise of running water. Mulder repeated the action, following through with a swirl of his tongue into the slit before he brought the head into his mouth. A gentle suck, rake of teeth, soothe of tongue, another suck and Alex was rotating his hips in small gyrations, his hand once again in Mulder's hair, only this time bearing fresh-scented herbal shampoo.

"That'd better be specially formulated for dry hair, otherwise I won't be able to do a thing with it," Mulder wisecracked, momentarily abandoning Alex's cock to speak.

"You know, you're much less irritating when your mouth's busy," Alex told him, massaging his tapered fingers into Mulder's scalp in a way that made him feel like the younger man was tapping directly into the pleasure center of his brain.

Mulder groaned, deliberately drawing Alex into his mouth so his lover could fully appreciate the sound he had induced. Then he slid his hands around the other man's hips to feel rounded buttocks and the backs of firm thighs as he delicately nipped and licked at Alex's balls. Finally, clasping his hands around Alex's spread legs, he opened his throat to the other man's pulsing cock.

//I know you like this.//

Alex sobbed, the fist in Mulder's hair clenching hard as his pelvis thrashed in a barely controlled buck. Although it was hardly unexpected, it almost threw Mulder, but he closed his eyes, his hands returning to Alex's hips, this time holding the younger man still as he continued to work his throat muscles. Mulder heard his name spoken through clenched teeth and, recognizing it as a warning, he drew back quickly, sucking hard on the crown for a few moments before Alex cried out and came.

//That's it, baby.//

Mulder felt his own cock throb in sympathy as he swallowed the hot saltiness greedily while trying to focus on the beautiful noises escaping his partner's lips. And when it was over, the hot, hard body under his hands went suddenly limp and Mulder was forced to scramble in order to catch the younger man before he fell.

xXx  
If I was someone else, would this all fall apart?  
  -- Matchbox 20, "Real World"  
xXx

Mulder slid his back along the chilly tile until he was standing in a comfortable half-crouch, holding Alex tight against his chest. He settled his lips against the racing pulse at the other man's neck, tasting water and sweat and Alex on the heated skin.

//Bliss.//

Mulder didn't know how long he had held Alex, whispering absurd messages softly against his skin, relishing and memorizing every smell and sound and experience and storing them away for use when he sat alone and tired, searching for that one spark of life within him that he could blow on and make burn.

Alex had unwittingly saved him from that darkness many a time.

And Mulder couldn't help but resent him for that; he hated relying on others to pull him through. He especially hated relying on Alex to pull him through--for the simple reason that Alex was so unreliable.

Mulder suspected he was the only person in the world who would put up with the bullshit that came with loving Alex Krycek.

Alex stirred, nuzzling the side of Mulder's face, twisting in his arms to capture his mouth in a kiss to which Mulder responded with involuntary ferocity.

"Out," Alex instructed, his voice grainy with arousal, and Mulder complied, pulling Alex to him once again as they both clambered out of the tub and onto the waiting bathmat.

Another kiss, knowing tongues searching, teeth scraping and biting with pressure at that glorious point just past gentle but not quite ruthless. Mulder felt the grate of rough-soft terrycloth on his wet skin as Alex dragged a towel over his back, buttocks, thighs.

//Ooohhhhh yes.//

"Spread your legs, Mulder," he was told, and complied without question, abandoning himself to his lover's control in the way Alex himself had done.

//Turnabout is fair play, after all.//

Mulder felt a wet mouth close over his left nipple as the towel rose and was rubbed with varying force over the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. Alex sucked lightly, using a cloth-covered finger to trace a path from Mulder's balls to the base of his spine. Mulder shivered, groaning in disappointment when the finger retreated, the towel now rubbing his calves dry.

Alex told Mulder to turn, toweling his partner's shoulders when Mulder did as he was told. Alex nosed the nape of Mulder's neck, following his hairline with rose-petal soft lips as his arm reached round to scour Mulder's chest. The delicious, almost unbearable friction all but made Mulder's eyes roll back in his head, and Mulder barely noticed that he was holding his cock in his own hand, touching himself in the way he was longing for Alex to.

Squeezing and pumping and stroking and God he was gonna come if only Alex would just touch him like that again right there and lower down and oh--

And then his wrist was snatched away, and he whimpered at the loss.

"No," Alex said, as if reprimanding a disobedient dog. "Save that for when I fuck you."

//Already? So soon?//

Mulder wanted to speak; he wanted to beg. But all he could do was grunt inarticulately and try to grab Alex and bring him closer, closer. He wanted to feel the other man's body against him, inside him. It seemed like his life depended on it.

Alex left him for a few seconds, and Mulder fell forward, bracing his hands on the sink to keep from collapsing. Eyes closed--because his senses were so heightened he was afraid something within his brain was about to overload--he could hear the opening and shutting of a bathroom cabinet. Then the rustling of a foil packet.

//So *soon*?//

Moments later, a hand slithered around his waist, sans towel, warm palm smoothing over his stomach softly, pulling gently. "That's it, Mulder. Move back further, bend forward a little more."

Mulder moved his feet slowly over the slippery floor, thinking idly that they'd left the water running in the shower before all thought was driven from his mind by one slick finger creeping gently along the crack of his ass. And then it was pushing inside him, slow at first, then suddenly faster.

//Oh Christ, when they cut off his arm, it was sacrilege.//

The finger was soon joined by another to help distribute the lube as the mouth resumed its position at his nape, wet

tongue lapping, sharp teeth nipping.

Mulder tried once more to speak, still finding himself incapable. He settled instead for moaning, pushing back onto the fingers insistently.

Alex ignored him, curling his fingers inside Mulder slightly, stroking firmly until he found that one spot that--

//Oh *GOD* fuck me fuck me fuckmefuckmefuckme....//

"Do you want it, Mulder?" Alex asked, and Mulder wondered how he could possibly still be capable of lucid speech.

//Because he's already come, and because he doesn't have the World's Most Talented Fingers up his ass....

//Oh.//

Mulder nodded, mumbling incoherently about "firearms training" and "just cause," at which Alex chuckled, removing the maddening fingers and speedily replacing them with the thick pressure of his cock. Mulder slumped further forward, restrained only by an arm around his chest as Alex pushed into him with one slow stroke.

Mulder swore under his breath, his knuckles whitening as his hands clenched on the lip of the sink.

"Okay?" Alex asked him.

//Oh Christ yes.//

"Mmm..." Mulder's head lolled, the throbbing burn giving way to deep, pulsing pleasure as Alex slid in, drew back, establishing a slow, gentle rhythm. Mulder felt his entire body glowing with that rhythm; his heartbeat, his breathing seemingly latching onto the tempo and molding themselves around it.

"Mulder." A whisper in his ear and he groaned in response. "Mulder, open your eyes. Look at yourself," he was told.

The light prickled his eyes, and he thought for a moment that his vision was blurred before he realized he was looking into the steamy surface of the bathroom mirror.

"Look how beautiful you are," Alex continued to glide in and out of him as he ran the back of his hand over Mulder's cheek. "Do you see how beautiful you are?"

//What?//

"No," he answered immediately.

"No?" Alex rotated his hips once, twice; Mulder couldn't count past that. "Look again."

So he did.

Full lips pink, visibly swollen, parted slightly so a glimmer of white teeth shone through. Skin pale and smooth, but not quite appropriate for the color of his hair. Unlike Alex, whose dark, dark hair set off his pale skin like black pepper did the taste of strawberries. Eyes heavy-lidded, lashes thick, but nowhere near as luxurious as Alex's. Cheeks flushed. Hair damp, the long strands at the front falling over his forehead and into his eyes. Jaw square, chin too rounded. Neck long and slender, meandering into too-bony collarbone and shoulders.

"Don't you see?" Alex whispered again.

He shook his head, looking instead at the way he could clearly see Alex's pulse in his neck, the way the younger man's lush mouth opened, as if to form words, but closed in silence in time with his slow thrusts.

//Now *that* is beauty.//

"I only see you," Mulder said, biting his tongue against a cry as Alex set up a new pace.

Alex laughed. "No," he sighed. "No, Mulder. I'm not beautiful."

"Ye--"

Alex hushed him with a long finger to his lips, not missing a single fraction of a beat in his rhythm.

"No, Mulder. I'm cute, I'm pretty, I'm handsome--whatever the hell you want to say. But I'm not beautiful. There's a difference." The finger traced the outline of Mulder's lower lip and down into the slight dimple of his chin.

"I don't see it." Mulder almost had to force the words through a gasp, and Alex shrugged. "I still think you're beautiful, Alex."

"Yeah, well, you're biased." Alex curled himself over Mulder's back, pushing gently into him once more.

//Oh, Jesus H.....//

Mulder whimpered, reaching behind him to grab Alex's ass and urge him to quicken his pace, grinding himself back on the thick cock shamelessly. "Please, Alex."

As if Mulder's articulation of his need fuelled Alex's own, the other man groaned, surging forward. Mulder took his cock in his own hand again, barely noticing that Alex's immediately came to join it.

A sensation like that first sip of tea on an insanely cold winter morning danced and grew inside of him, heat diffusing his entire body, starting from that one, unspecifiable spot deep, deep inside and slowly spreading, creeping. The careful timing gone, the pressure building so he couldn't tell what was up or down or just where Alex began and he ended. Pleasure became pain, and all pain was pleasure. And then he was hurtling through a glinting tunnel, where light played along the surface like it was made of mother-of-pearl, and he was falling faster, faster still. In the distance, he heard a sharp cry--his own--and that tunnel came to a close all of a sudden, shutting in on him, suffocating, devouring. Too much and not enough and he wanted it to stop but never end and it was magnificent....

This was what he lived for. These moments of clarity, where Alex held him close; where he listened to the other man's breathing and felt his heartbeat strong and rapid under smooth flesh. Where he allowed himself to feel Alex with every cell and fiber of his being. Where, if he concentrated hard enough, he could make it seem like time slowed and became irrelevant. Where he thought that if this were to be taken from him at that precise moment, he would starve to death within seconds.

This was what he lived for. What he could never quite understand at any other time but then and there and now.

Without it, he didn't exist.

But he would never let himself admit that.

xXx  
Did you know when you go it's the perfect ending  
To the bad day I was just beginning  
When you go all I know is you're my favorite mistake  
  -- Sheryl Crow, "My Favorite Mistake"  
xXx

Later, he woke atop a narrow single bed; his naked flesh was chilled by a draft that spilled over him from the small window at the other end of the small, drab bedroom. He was alone. Not that the fact surprised him at all.

//I have this strange sense of deja vu....//

The pale, melancholy light of an early sunrise slithered across the hardwood floor and began to climb the flaking, stuccoed wall. In the next room a woman screamed, a baby cried. The first stopped with what sounded suspiciously like a slap.

Mulder was almost jealous, wishing to feel the stinging blow across his face, yearning to feel real pain instead of this dull ache in a place that could have been his pride or his heart.

The ache that made him wish for a warm body to curl into, silky hair to lace through his fingers, a pliant mouth to kiss good morning....

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, finding his clothes carelessly folded on the floor.

//Well, he's never done *that* before.//

He dressed, not even looking for his mutilated tie, which he knew from experience would be in the pocket of Alex's jeans, or the front of his bag, or tied around his arm beneath that goddamn leather jacket.

He always had to take his fucking souvenir.

It was Krycek's way of saying I'm sorry. His way of saying I love you.

//Does he?//

The street was quieter in the scarcely-morning brume, and the shrill ring of his cell-phone caught him by surprise.

//Alex?//

"Mulder."

"Mulder, where the hell are you? I've been trying to reach you since 11 last night. Do you have any idea how worried I was? Why didn't you answer your phone?"

//Scully.//

Mulder fell back against the dirty brick wall, rubbing his eyes. He sighed.

"Mulder?"

//Like I really expected him to show enough courtesy to say goodbye.//

He refused to believe that the tightness in his throat was due to impending tears. "I'm sorry, Scully. I've been... staking out a suspect all night. I forgot my phone. I'm sorry."

"Jesus, Mulder. I've been going out of my mind. Well, did it amount to anything?"

Mulder pushed off the wall and began to walk along the street, silently praying that his car was still there, and if it was, that it had its tires. "What, Scully?"

"The stakeout. Did it amount to anything?"

Mulder didn't know quite why he wanted to laugh. He swallowed, absently running his finger over the long wound on his neck. "Doesn't look like it," he said eventually.

//What the hell?//

Mulder paused suddenly, watching a figure drive past in a Crown Victoria--*his* Crown Victoria! --with an obscenely pretentious grin that left no doubt in his mind that he was sleeping with Satan.

"You FUCKING *BASTARD*!" he bellowed.

"Mulder!" Scully squawked.

"Uh... gotta go, Scully."

"Mu--"

Mulder violently kicked the curb, watching Alex toss his head back and wave before the tires screeched against asphalt and the car sped away.

//Well, that could have been a goodbye....//

Mulder barely restrained himself from hurling his cellular in the direction of the swiftly-retreating vehicle. Back to the real world.

Until the next time.

-end-

Comments to or . Please?

xXx

Reality is for people who can't face drugs

xXx  
All I want is destruction/   
Wanna see it crumble beneath my toes/   
Smell the way my sore eyes burn away/   
That's all that I can have today   
  -- Skunk Anansie, "All I Want"  
xXx

What drives you on can drive you mad -- Garbage, "Stupid Girl"


End file.
